


For All the Years to Come

by AdraCat



Series: Metallurgy [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday Fluff, F/F, Happy Birthday Catherine!, Noble Nonsense, One Shot, Pillow Talk, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdraCat/pseuds/AdraCat
Summary: On a cold, winter night a former Knight shares a story from her past. A question of birthdays is raised.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand
Series: Metallurgy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926616
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	For All the Years to Come

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this was written because hardly anyone was making content for Catherine's birthday. That made me sad, so I decided to contribute! Happy birthday, Catherine~
> 
> [A Notice: This story takes place in between Ch.18 and 19 of To Forge and Temper. If you have not read it, you may be lost as to what's going on with Cathmir and where they are. With that out the way, please enjoy!]

It was not often Shamir was taken by surprise. Reading people was a skill she had honed for years, out of necessity and desire both. Despite what many thought, humanity was not so terribly complex. It was easy to predict how one might react to any given situation. Catherine, bold and forthright, was easier to read than most. There was little mystery to her emotions. She wore her heart like a banner and spoke whatever came to mind. However, there were times when the surface of her thoughts was more ice than water.

One such occasion came during a pleasant night by the fire. The wintry day had taken its toll and the chapel residents were slowly succumbing to the lullaby of night. The children had pressed Catherine into a harrowing tale of bravery, naturally rife with inaccuracies and creative liberty. Wide eyes stared up at her dreamily; such was their awe for the former Knight. As the hour got long, their energy waned until youthful enthusiasm was replaced with hazy languor. Yet Catherine’s boisterous oration continued to fill the room with warmth. Shamir watched on with exasperated fondness.

“...darted for me with a yell! But in a duel, aggression is not always the victor. I evaded his clumsy thrust and spun away.” Catherine raised her arms in a makeshift flourish, pantomiming the past. The shadows at her back arched with every dramatic sweep. “Now, my opponent thought himself clever by girding himself in full plate. Had I been less skilled, I would have been defeated. I knew a slice could not penetrate his mail. To win, I needed to be clever too.”

“What did you do?” Connla, lying prone at the woman’s feet, rose up on his forearms. Excitement cleared the fatigue from his face. Aife said nothing, but she peered at Catherine with wide eyes.

“I did what any respectable duelist would do in my shoes. I decided to fight dirty.” A rakish grin appeared. Catherine straightened in her chair. “Plate has many virtues, protection being one of them. It’s also restrictive. So I took advantage of this and threw a large rock at his visor. It hit helmet with a monstrous clang and he was sent reeling! While he was distracted, I spun my sword and grasped the blade with both hands. Then, I bashed his head repeatedly with the hilt!”

“That’s allowed?” Connla gaped. “The knights in books don’t fight like that.”

“A win is a win. Doesn’t matter how you come by it.” It was a typical Catherine thing to say, accompanied by a characteristic chuckle. She rolled her shoulders in apparent pride. “It didn’t earn me any friends, but I got what I wanted. I’ll admit, I was a bit of a cad back then.”

“An ugly victory,” Shamir commented, amused. “I’m surprised you weren’t thrown from the tourney.”

“Oh, they considered it. But my father was in attendance and no one wanted to be on the wrong side of his ire.” Catherine paused, rubbing her neck. “Well, it was also my birthday. So that could have had a hand in their leniency.”

“You had to fight on your birthday?” Aife blinked, paling rapidly. Catherine barked out a laugh.

“This might surprise you kiddo, but I loved to fight. It was in my blood, always had been.” Blue eyes darkened as something wistful glazed her expression. “Still is, yet I know that’s beyond me now. Anyway, the tourney was organized in my honor. So why shouldn’t I do as I like? The party afterward was a bit tense, but I didn’t care.”

“You got a party?!” Connla enthused.

“I did. A big one too. My father was rather… important. With that prestige came great wealth and influence. My birthday was just a grand excuse for him to show off.” Catherine snorted. She propped her heels by the flames. “The whole week was filled with grandiose affairs. The tourney was the only one I enjoyed to any great extent. Well, I guess the various parties were tolerable; so long as I could drink and eat my fill.”

There was a palpable disdain to her tone then. Shamir caught it immediately, eyeing her partner from across the fire pit. The embers cast Catherine’s profile in a warm glow, but the shadows beneath her eyes alluded to something forbidding. Her expression was unreadable; gaze cold.

“Wow. Your family did a bunch of stuff on your birthday.” Connla pouted, oblivious to the change in atmosphere. He yawned and rubbed his face. “I want a party too. Do you think Bothild would let me have one if I asked?”

“I don’t see why not.” The former Knight offered a stilted smile. It did not reach her eyes. “I’ll discuss it with her. It shouldn’t be difficult to gather everything.”

“I want one too!” Aife perked and tugged on the woman's pant leg. “But I don’t want people to fight. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly fine.” Catherine chuckled and mussed the girl’s hair. Aife preened at the attention. With that, the matter was seemingly settled and the conversation changed direction. Shamir observed her partner in silence. The woman’s levity had returned, but her stare was hard. Each smile given was cursory, and each laugh hollow. Had the mere mention of her birthday done this? Shamir couldn’t be sure.

For as long as she had known her, Catherine never celebrated the day. She had assumed it was due to simple preference. For all her arrogance and pride, the woman avoided making a fuss of her accomplishments. She could be oddly humble when it suited her. Yet Shamir did not get that impression now. There was resentment in the shadow of her words, lingering with bitter weight.

Hours later, when weariness finally sapped children into slumber, the two women retired to their room. As Catherine dressed for bed, Shamir eyes never strayed from her frame. She watched from the sheets, trying to decipher the rigid line of her spine. Eventually, the other woman faced her. A fair brow quirked in question.

“I can feel your stare like a brand.” Catherine tore the tie from her hair, and long strands dusted her shoulders. She ran a hand through the mane of gold, shirt unlaced. Normally, Shamir would bask in this unbound version of her lover. But her attention could not be swayed. “Am I that fascinating? You’re going to make me blush.”

“I was just thinking about your comments earlier.” Shamir tilted her head. “About your birthday.”

“Ah.” A disgruntled sigh escaped Catherine. Her mouth slanted down. “What about it?”

“It surprised me. Not the content, but the disgust that you spoke with.” Shamir paused, thinking back to the cold look in her partner’s eyes. “Considering your past, I thought your birthdays would have been pleasant. You had more privilege than most.”

“Oh sure; they were fun. Endless diversions with everything I could have wanted.” Catherine threw herself atop the bed. It shook with her weight as she stretched. “For what it’s worth, I did enjoy myself. Or tried to, anyway.”

“Even now, you sound contemptuous,” the Dagdan woman observed. “Why? Did something happen?”

“There wasn’t a singular event or anything. I can’t point at some grand disaster and say, ‘There lies my misery!’” Catherine sank into the pillows. She looked tired suddenly; weary. “I don’t know. You’ll think I’m being stupid, or spoiled.”

“I always think those things.”

“Yeah, but you’ll think it even harder than usual.”

“You do realize I spent the better part of a decade believing you to be a lovelorn fool. If I stayed after all that, I don’t think some anecdote about your birthday would send me fleeing.”

“Fine, fine. You have a point.” The former Knight visibly pouted. She placed her arms behind her head. “I guess I should start by saying it’s not the day itself I despise. Rather, it was the pomp and circumstance involved that I loathed. Had my family insisted on a private function, I would have been happier.”

“I didn’t think a young Cassandra would be self-aware enough for humility. That’s admirable, if unexpected,” Shamir mused.

“I wouldn’t call it humility on my part.” Catherine winced. She shifted on the covers, movements sheepish. “I was as vainglorious as any noble brat. But I was also very aware of my position as heir. I couldn’t stand the bowing and scraping that came with each party. I knew it wasn’t me they were truly deferring to. Only the title I would one day wear, and crest I would be obligated to pass.”

The former Knight fluttered her fingers in agitation.

“Suitors would come far and wide, from the bowels of the Kingdom to the far-flung reaches of Leicester. My father used the day as an excuse to shove matches my way. He was lenient concerning the matter, for the most part. However, he wasn’t above a firm suggestion. He made sure I entertained each pompous lordling he vetted.”

Shamir stiffened reflexively. Seeing this, her partner traced a hand down her hip. The touch was reassuring, and the Dagdan woman settled.

“Don’t worry. Nothing ever came of those matches. At best, they left with nothing more than bruised pride. At worst, missing a few teeth.” Her lips pulled into a puckish smirk. “Don’t tell the kids this, but that duel was actually a bid for my hand. The idiot thought I would be impressed if he defeated me in single combat.”

“And that’s why you were so vicious with him.” Shamir hummed, amused despite herself. “Hmm. I suppose he deserved it. Did that happen often?”

“Men thinking they could ‘earn’ me? Sometimes. I humored the cheekier ones. It felt great to thrash them into the dirt.” Catherine paused. Her stare grew unfocused as she reminisced. “My brother found it hilarious, of course. It was one of the few things we both enjoyed. Alexander was a heel, but he refrained from being a pest whenever my birthday came.”

She smiled, achingly fond.

“Spending time with my family was always the best part.”

“Then there was some good to them.” Shamir reached for a stray lock of wheat. She swept it behind Catherine’s ear. “I’m glad. You deserve happiness.”

The other woman blinked rapidly. She appeared shocked.

“What an uncharacteristically sentimental thing to say.” Catherine pulled back, scanning her eyes across her partner’s face. “Are you running a fever? Blink twice if you feel lightheaded.”

“I’m not made of stone, Catherine. Is it really strange for me to find joy in yours?” Shamir rolled her eyes, scowling deeply. The former Knight stilled. She exhaled sharply.

“Sorry. I guess dredging up all this has me a little on edge. It’s easier to make light of everything.” Her expression fell into a pensive mask. “That was the core of it, in truth. A day meant to make me happy, made me anything but. I took heart where I could, but… it was futile. The trappings of my station ruined whatever joy I found. And I knew a day would come when I could no longer deny the responsibility I had to my House.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand. Your birthday represented duty.” Not for the first time, enmity burned in Shamir’s breast for Fόdlan customs. Birthdays were not exceptional affairs in Dagda, but they were not marred with the same insidious bids for power.

“Yes. I had a legacy to carry on. Whatever desires I held meant nothing.” Catherine twisted on her side, flinging an arm around the Dagdan woman. She pressed her nose to dark strands and Shamir could feel the rise of her chest as she breathed. She reached for her in return, fingers finding the divot of her shoulder blades. “Mm. I wouldn’t have been allowed this; _you_. Even if we had somehow met, I would be forced to pine from afar.”

“You’re assuming a lot. Who is to say I would accept you?”

“I can be persuasive when I want to be. Besides, I know you find me charming.” A sloppy kiss was pressed to her brow. Shamir wrinkled her nose but did not pull away. “You know, maybe I would have given it all up; dashed a centuries-old legacy just to be with you.”

“I doubt it. You wouldn’t have had the gall.”

“Perhaps.” Catherine chuckled softly. “It’s a nice thought, though. If things had been different… you would have been my Lady.”

“Is that the reason for that awful moniker?” Shamir scoffed.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She could not see Catherine’s face, but the smile in her voice was plainly heard. “After I joined the Knights, birthdays were just another day. I was relieved not to have that pressure anymore, but also sad. I felt it wasn’t worth remembering who I had been.”

“And now?”

“Now… I guess it can be whatever I choose.” Catherine fell quiet for a moment, but the silence was not filled with melancholy. Her voice was colored with mirth when she next spoke. “You know, this last one was rather nice. It had bad parts, but I think it was easily my favorite.”

“We didn’t celebrate your birthday this year.” Shamir frowned at her partner. “We were also in the middle of an argument.”

“I would rather call it a miscommunication.” Catherine hummed thoughtfully. “It was still nice. Nothing terrible happened, and we were together. Maybe not as close as we could have been, but that was my fault. I got a nice present a month later too.”

“Which was?”

Catherine’s fingers tapped a pattern up the Dagdan woman’s spine.

“Something priceless and without equal.” She dipped her head, kissing a trail down pale skin. Shamir fought not to react, but she relaxed into the attention nonetheless. She gripped the length of Catherine’s hair and sighed as a tongue pressed to her neck.

“I don’t think I count as a birthday gift.”

“Too late. You can’t take it back now. That would be tacky.”

Shamir shivered as lips stretch along her skin. She could picture how it would look upon her partner’s face; leonine and familiar. It was a predator’s grin, but Shamir didn’t mind being prey. The Dagdan woman was not without her own fangs. As they slipped out of their clothing, a thought occurred to her. Catherine’s past birthdays were not happy occasions, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be in the future.

She did not know if they would stay here, but she was certain they would make that choice together. Shamir kissed her partner, not with hunger, but with love. She tugged her close until the scent of her clouded both head and heart.

 _Next year will be_ _the happiest yet_ _._ _אני מבטיח לך אושר_ _,_ _לכל השנים הבאות_ _._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope everyone had fun with this quick little fic! I considered writing it from Cath's pov, but I thought it would be nice to write it from the pov of someone who adores her. Just felt more fitting that way lol. As you can see, I decided to make a separate series for future Cathmir works. I have a ton of plans for these two ;) As for the next chapter of TFaT, it will be coming very soon! I aim to be done writing it by the end of this week so be on the lookout! Thank you for reading!!🤗 - AdraCat


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